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Robert Frost (18741963)

North of Boston. 1915.

 

1. The Pasture

 

I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;

I'll only stop to rake the leaves away

(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):

I shan't be gone long. You come too.

 

I'm going out to fetch the little calf

Thats standing by the mother. Its so young,

It totters when she licks it with her tongue.

I shan't be gone long. You come too.

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